Olympic Spirit, Canadian Style

Okay, yes, I know. I was rather harsh in my post about the opening ceremonies of the Vancouver Winter Olympics. I’m a cynic; what can I say? And I’m extremely picky and fussy about musical performances and music in general. And the ceremonies gave me a lot to moan about. So I moaned. Maybe even griped.

I went into this whole Winter Olympics thing with a distinctly jaded outlook. I’d been hearing about the lack of snow in Whistler and the possibility of the Blackcomb resort filing for bankruptcy protection, and I started thinking that the whole thing was going to be a major train wreck. To make matters worse, I then read this article by Vancouver’s poet laureate Brad Cran stating his reasons for not participating in the Olympic celebrations, and I my blood started to boil a bit. When large corporations start telling people what they can and can’t do, I get angry. Real angry.

But the whole corporate thing is fodder for a post of its own. And believe me, I will return to it.

So I wasn’t really planning to watch much Olympic coverage. I knew I’d end up seeing at least some of it, because CTV was basically suspending all regular programming except for the news and broadcasting non-stop Olympic coverage for the entire seventeen days of the games.

I knew there was no avoiding it.

My lukewarm reaction to the opening ceremonies further clinched my negativity. I sighed, yawned (because it was late), and shook my head. I had no great hopes for Canada’s big shot at the hosting gig.

But even before the opening ceremonies began, something happened that no one could have predicted, no one could have anticipated, and surely no one would have wanted: Nodar Kumaritashvili of Georgia was killed when his luge crashed during a training run at the Whistler Sliding Centre.

This was one of the most sobering, gut-wrenching things I’ve ever seen or heard. It put a damp chill on the games even before they’d begun, and it made many, myself included, wonder how the Olympics could ever manage to proceed normally.

But it did something else as well. As tragic and heartbreaking as it was, Kumaritashvili’s death solidified an already-strong Olympic community spirit. It brought everyone together, and started the games with a note of deep feeling that would resonate throughout the seventeen days and only strengthen as the games went on.

No one wants to see an athelete die. No one. But when you’re faced with tragedy, you either buckle or you shore yourself up. And the Olympic community shored itself up, honored its fallen son, and proceeded to do what it was there to do, weaker for losing one of its own, but stronger for bearing up under the weight of that loss.

I think it was partly that introduction of deep feeling into the games that prompted me to start watching the coverage after the opening ceremonies. These past few months have been all about feelings for me. I’m a cynic, yes; I make no bones about that. But I’m also an emotional person. The cynicism helps me to keep things at arm’s length, but the feelings are there. And they can be quite strong at times.

I’ve gone through quite a tubulent period since the fall. My mental health reached a new low in September, but I managed to write a novel in November. I went through an intensive group therapy programme over the Christmas period and came out of it with new insights and access to deeper feelings than I’d ever experienced before, but I also came to realize that I needed to go through a grieving process that I’d managed to avoid years ago.

They say timing is everyting. Going through my mental and emotional explorations during the Christmas period was challenging in itself, because I love Christmas and have many emotional memories and associations with it. It made my experience that much deeper. And now, here I am, coming out of the process yet still going through it, and along come the Olympics.

Well, let’s just say that I’ve had kleenex near to hand at all times.

I’ve been glued to the television for the last two weeks. When I haven’t been at work, I’ve been home watching the Olympic coverage. I’ve managed to check my e-mail, Facebook, and Twitter regularly, but most of the rest of the time, I’ve been on the couch, watching sporting events I knew very little about, and cheering for Canada.

The cynicism has all but dropped away. I think that shift began when I watched Jennifer Heil go for the gold in the women’s moguls competition on February 13th. Though I shared the disappointment the rest of the country felt that Heil did not break Canada’s gold medal slump (i.e. not winning any gold medals in Olympic games we had hosted), I discovered something: That sport is damned exciting to watch.

And so it began. What started as curiosity soon turned into a near-addiction as I watched event after event, each one as exciting and thrilling as the next. And then Alexandre Bilodeau won Canada’s first gold medal in the men’s moguls, and we all settled in for what was to become one of Canada’s best Olympic games ever.

Joannie Rochette will forever represent the 2010 Winter Olympics for me.

And then there was Joannie Rochette.

I cannot begin to tell you how touched and moved I am by this young woman’s courage and tenacity in the face of personal tragedy. Just two days before her performance in the women’s figure skating short program, her mother died suddenly of a heart attack, mere hours after arriving in Vancouver to see her daughter compete. Joannie decided to proceed with the competition, to honor her mother, and she ended up with the bronze medal.

I was unable to type that last paragraph without pausing.

As I write this, we are in day seventeen, the final day of the games, and Canada will be playing the U.S. in men’s hockey later this afternoon. We’re all hoping for the gold, and Team Canada has come together so strongly over the course of the tournament that it seems likely they’ll take it. Whatever happens, though, we can all stand a little taller knowing that Canada, with thirteen gold medals, now has the record for golds won by a host country in the Winter Olympics and is tied with the former Soviet Union for the most Winter Olympic gold medals overall.

So, I suppose you could say I’m a convert. I still have my cynical moments, but by and large my Olympic experience has left me breathless, emotional, and glad to be Canadian. And say what you will about “I Believe”, the theme song for the CTV Olympic broadcasts; it may be a fairly typical pop song and not particularly Canadian-sounding, but it’s stirring and rousing, and when it’s combined with those video montages of Olympic moments, it never fails to reduce me to a puddle of protoplasm on the floor.

Go Canada. You’ve got me believin’.

Don’t forget to leave the TV on.

(Here’s the video for “I Believe”, featuring footage from the Olympic Torch Relay. Grab your kleenex.)